


Taken Is Given

by Jenwryn



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Time, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-24
Updated: 2009-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't fully believe that it was happening, at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken Is Given

**Author's Note:**

> Um, um, more het, hmm. And it ended up turning into a bit of an "Orihime grows a spine" kind of thing. My apologies, I do like the girl (would I be writing her otherwise?) but she does upset me now and then. ANYWAY, this was written quite literally whilst I was in the middle of watching episode 163: I pushed the pause button the moment Grimmjow said he was returning a favour and, uh, wrote this. I'm not saying it the story is supposed to slide into that part of the arc but, eh, it was what made me want to write it! And the Jenny Lewis song graces the top of it because... ah... I edited with that on loop. And it suited. In my brain. Gah, don't ask awkward questions like that! XD
> 
> For the record, I don't think this is dub-con, 'kay?
> 
> Unbeta'd.

_  
He took me away, I was never the same, on the black sand.  
He said, "Who’s going to love you, buried underground?"_   
_Oh, on the black sand._

~ Jenny Lewis, 'Black Sand'.

*

She didn't fully believe that it was actually happening, at the time, although she cannot help but believe it afterwards. Afterwards, there's the deep ache inside of her, hovering vaguely somewhere between and below her softness-covered hip bones. Afterwards, there are the plum-purple bruises splotched across her skin, where his rough hands had held her up against the wall. He'd been her first, that first time. Something had torn inside of her, and the sharp, unforgiving sting of it had brought bitter tears to her eyes, but the pain was proof that she was alive, alive, alive and human, and there had already been tears on her face to start with, so how could it even matter? But he'd paused for a heartbeat, just for a heartbeat, as the realisation had hit him, and then he'd surprised her, more than anyone had surprised her in a very long time; his touch had grown slower. His touch had grown slower, and he had worked her through the pain to something slightly more twisted, and a whole lot harder to define, which she'd thought might very well have been almost-death in it's flecked-white incredulous pleasure. Her legs ached, not from something he had done, but from her, herself, gripping at him, harder than she would ever have imagined. Still, his pressure had hurt, and so had his teeth on her neck, as he'd bent to bite and nip at her skin – but it was a hurt which had said _thank you _ for something so immense that she could barely comprehend the fullness of it, just as she could barely comprehend the place that his harsh, demanding, shockingly wanted touch had driven her to.

Sometimes you have to break things completely, before you can put them back together again.

He didn't stay for long, afterwards, not that first time. Just long enough to set her down on the couch, and brush a few strands of sweat-snot-tears-dampened hair away from her eyes. Just long enough to straighten her clothes again, so that the rips he'd made wouldn't leave her completely indecent. Just long enough to look at her, piercing and hard.

He hadn't said a word, but she rather thought that she'd understood, then, through the haze of exhaustion and pleasure and pain. _She had made him whole__. _She really had. She had made somebody whole and, for the first time in her life, she truly saw it, saw it right there in his bright blue eyes as he studied her. And, for the first time, she believed she might have some worth. Because she had returned him to his rightful place. Because she had made him an Espada. _Because she had made him whole_.

In that moment, as he raised his hand in mock salute, and left the room... in that moment, he had truly taken her, and made her his. Not earlier, when she'd been up against the wall, crying and keening, and coming, in his embrace. Not then, but when she had seen herself, reflected in his gaze.

And, in finding herself, she had realised that she was truly her own to give.

So she does.


End file.
